


After Midnight

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Future Fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The future is bleak, but Mohinder knows he has someone looking out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mylar Fic Holiday Prompt Table: "Silent Night"

Mohinder used to love late night walks in the city. The solitude of darkness was the universe granting permission for him to ruminate on what pressed down on his mind, without the interruptions of daily life. Hands thrust in his jacket pocket, he would walk wherever his feet carried him while his mind played out situations and scenarios he desperately needed to figure out or, better yet, escape.

A year ago those late night contemplations became much more complicated affairs. Up until then, as evolved humans became more prominent amongst the world’s population, the split between fascination and fear developed. Some held them up as an exquisite form of evolution meant to be revered, others regarded them as a profound anomaly that would destroy the human race; some wanted them tested and harvested in a bid to make all humans ‘Special’, while others demanded they be rounded up and contained until proof of their ability to live amongst the unevolved without causing harm (intentional or not) was fact.

The right words stoked the flames of fear. Rhetoric was a poisoned quill tip.

The masses stayed quiet as the government enacted two-tiered laws, and a new world order built on inequality was given the nervous nod. In its wake, underground resistance groups organized—Specials who demanded freedom alongside the unevolved who insisted on equal rights for all by any means necessary. A couple of groups worked together but the more powerful ones, the ones that could cause serious damage, remained independent. Terrorists or Freedom Fighters, there were Specials who saw their gifts as raising them, rightfully and naturally, above the rest of the human race. They fought to tip the scales in their favour.

Mohinder’s history with pinpointing the origin of the nexus and analyzing the myriad of complexities that detailed the various offshoots (why some controlled their abilities easily while others struggled, why some abilities were relatively innocuous versus ones that had deadly consequences) made him a central figure who both sides laid claim to or burned in effigy, depending on what argument was being made.

It didn’t matter that he had argued on behalf of equal rights for all as well as the controlled use of abilities. It didn’t matter that he eventually walked away (or was pushed out) from that public life. His name and face were symbolic representations of one of the most crucial turns in human history, and semantics weren’t going to change that. He had to be careful.

New York, like other cities, found itself as one of many battlegrounds. Unofficial maps detailed the new boundary breakdowns where certain persons were either accepted or risked life and death. Central Park was a wild west no man’s land that few—except those with connections in the know—dared enter. Daylight hours were a mostly safe time to move about, but night always posed a problem, no matter where in the city. Attacks ranged from political graffiti to car bombs, tactical hostage situations to media takeovers (by way of controlling the airwaves with counter-political messages for seconds or minutes).

People disappeared all the time and Times Square was littered with posters of the missing. Gunfire sounded out intermittently and the smell of death turned parts of the city into horror movie reminders of how easily civilization could crumble. People only did what was necessary outside of their homes; otherwise they stayed inside.

Mohinder devoted much time in his apartment to mapping out the pattern of attacks matched with the differing factions and the known members of each. Peter, ever the do-gooder, touched base with him every other night and their sharing of pertinent information provided Mohinder some sense of hope rather than feeling useless with despair. He watched Peter struggle against those who wished to annihilate all Specials as well as those who justified killing the unevolved population. Peter’s ability made him a formidable figure and the cache that came with it (along with his insistent pleas for unity) at least bought him a modicum of respect.

Mohinder relied on their friendship more than words could say. He rarely saw the others who were first part of his American life; they were all spread out with differing opinions and motivations, different demands for the future. But Peter…his friendship had become one of the most important in Mohinder’s life and when they showed up and they got around to talking about things that had nothing to do with the fight (like Peter trying to figure out the best way to celebrate his fourth anniversary with Emma), Mohinder knew Peter needed him just as much.

Still, there came a time when Mohinder needed to break away from all of it. He saw the concern in Peter’s eyes and though it warmed him to be thought of, he wished Peter didn’t worry so much. But safety and protection were important, and for that Mohinder wouldn’t fault his friend.

The thing was, he knew something the rest didn’t (though he figured Peter was suspicious) and it’s what made it a risk Mohinder considered worth taking to step out into the daring night. He had a guardian angel, dressed in black, with a gleam in his eyes and blood dripping from his fingertips.

Mohinder never saw Sylar, but felt his presence close by. At first he thought it was his imagination but a couple of close call altercations which he “mysteriously” survived, the cryptic note left on the kitchen table, the sure sound of breath and a hand pressed to his forehead when he gained consciousness after being caught in a surprise attack at a local bookstore believed to be run by government sympathizers (so much for simply wanting to browse new titles); all these events piled on top of each other to reveal an unexpected truth.

Someone was looking out for him. Connecting it to Sylar came from the few eye witness accounts Mohinder could collect which detailed a man of a strikingly familiar description appearing on the periphery of peoples visions, lurking, watching; occasionally stepping forth but doing so with frightening precision behind his intent.

Normally Mohinder didn’t like the idea of being watched over by Sylar like a pet or accident-prone child. In fact, it irritated him to be scrutinized without permission. Yet walking the streets by himself, thinking about what had turned the world inside out, he was relieved to know someone he had never asked anything from (except honesty…and sacrifice, but that was for other familial reasons since laid to rest) valued his life greatly, so personally, far beyond anything Mohinder ever allowed himself to imagine.

On the flipside, Mohinder liked to push that silent declaration further, test its validity. Part of going out at night, to locations known as “unfriendly”, was to see where or if Sylar ever drew the line. He wanted to know when Sylar would turn his back, saying _‘you’re on your own,’_ or finally step out of the shadows for a formal face-to-face.

It was a reckless experiment by all accounts, but it didn’t stop Mohinder. There was something in the ongoing challenge that played out like an extension of the lives they once led. It wasn’t as antagonistic as before, resting more on the side of mutual understanding; an accepted set of terms drawn up and sealed.

It went beyond ‘like’ and Mohinder refused to consider the other L word. Neither of those applied and they were far too pedestrian to be thrown into the ring. Instead, an undefined sphere encased them, one with penetrable borders and flexible divisions. The stakes were higher, the reward unknowable.

Mohinder looked up at the bright moon fixed and hung high in the black sky speckled with white. There was a commotion down the street and he suspected a rogue firestarter, believed to be dead, of being at the center of it, using rumours in his favour as he established his own new band of fighters. However, Mohinder needed proof if Peter was to be able to eventually launch a counter move.

He picked up the pace, tensed his shoulders and looked straight ahead, grimacing at the biting chill across his cheeks. Panic momentarily spiked his heart then slipped away.

He wasn’t alone.   
 


End file.
